Cracked Cloud
by Lora Perry
Summary: “The question is not whether we will die, but how we will live.” Alex was a conundrum of sorts. Here, glimpses at his life from when he was 5 to 28.


**TITLE: **Cracked Cloud

**AUTHOR: **Lora Perry

**RATING: **PG-13

**WARNINGS: **cursing, reference to abuse and drunk driving

**PAIRINGS:** none

**WORD COUNT: **1,142

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own, don't sue.

**SUMMARY: **"The question is not whether we will die, but how we will live." Alex was a conundrum of sorts. Here, glimpses at his life from when he was 5 to 28.

When Alex was 5, he ran all the way to the next door neighbor's house. Ms. Johnson has laughed her old person laugh, and made cookies. He giggled with her, as she let him measure out the sugar for her gooey creations. When his father's car rumpled into the driveway, shots of panic and fear ran across his young face. Ms. Johnson –God bless her- didn't notice, and packaged up the cookies for Alex to bring home.

When Alex was 14, he was recruited onto the high school football and wrestling teams. There, the coaches taught him about perseverance, loyalty to teammates, and to never show emotions on the playing field. The senior players took the growing boy under their "tutelage" and there he grew as well. The quarterback taught him how to smoldered women (then, just girls) with his smile. The wide receiver, however, showed him the plays to get into a cheerleader's skirt using only his eyes and a lemon.

When Alex was 15 he lost his virginity. He didn't call Scott, the quarterback, or tell the whole (exaggerated) story to Teagen the wild wide receiver. He did pay a visit to their graves, but he didn't stay long. Drunk driving was a bitch, as was losing states that year.

When Alex was 18, he attacked his father, took all the meager money out of his savings account, and headed to college. He hasn't spoken a word to his father since. He wrote his mother a five sentence letter when he graduated, but other than that, the only words exchanged were those uttered only to the wind and to the sea.

When Alex turned 21, his roommate got his completely wasted. They sang off-key songs for three hours until someone called him a cab. He made the cab stop at a shady tattoo parlor, and there he had something drawn upon the surface of him. It was deep and meant something to his apparently stone heart. When his buddies asked though, Alex smiles that smile. He tells this story of a hot chick with way too much flexibility. He says he was drunk. He says he doesn't remember. His frat brothers laugh.

When Alex was 22, he graduated from the University of Iowa. Someone told him that it was a huge deal. Alex only put on his shit eating smile and played along. That night, he slept with a woman, 

Kristen or Katharine; he really didn't stop to ask. And when her playful tongue came across the inch and a half scar, she questioned it. He told her, with all his bravado that it was from a knife fight with a big ass fucker. She smiles, and tells him then he deserves an award. Alex, a college graduate, never says that that fucker was his father, and he was eight at the time.

When Alex was 26 he graduated from Medical school. His frat brothers threw a grade-A party and there was booze, drugs and girls for everyone. He spent five minutes alone in his room, trying to find the right words to say, to write, to eternalize in a letter that he was trying to send. Mary-Anne, a girl with an innocent name and a sinful past, stood in his doorway with two beers, awaiting his exodus from his self imposed exile. Alex, medical school alumni, fingers a ring in his pocket. But before the night is over, Mary-Anne is seen with another man, and Dr. Karev just puts it up there on his wall of all the people who've left him alone in the world.

When Alex was 28, he knows something is wrong. He knows it is not normal to lie on the bathroom floor, throwing up blood. He knows, he went to medical school for all this god dam knowledge, and he is powerless. He is dying, slowly, on this floor that he should have cleaned at least two weeks ago.

He can see where the missing toothbrush of Meredith has been hiding, and that makes him laugh. That laugh, though, only brings about more pain, more lancing lightning through his stomach. More blood pollutes the floor. That's all Alex was ever good for, turning white floors red. His body has become his enemy, just like his father, and sweet little Anne-Mary…or was it Mary-Anne? Alex can't remember. He shakes. His body feels like it's on fire, like it's been doused in the same god dam water that Ava and Meredith dealt with a lifetime ago.

Alex wonders, like all men do before they die how his body will be found. If Izzie will walk in, expecting to snatch the last tampon only to find his blood and lifeless body. He imagines (for that's all he can do now, play with his fucking imagination, and throw up more blood) her _staring_, almost in disbelief, because Izzie, she's just that naïve. He knows, because he is dying, and because this type of epiphany shit does happen, that it'll take a minute for it to register. Her voice will go soft, and then she'll scream. She'll scream to an empty house if she has too. It always makes her feel better to scream. She'll do the doctor stuff, CPR and the like. She'll try to diagnose him while trying to keep his worthless ass alive. She was always a god dam better doctor than he was. _She was always a better god dam human that he was._

Maybe cynical Meredith will find him. Fuck that only makes him laugh (the pain this time, that lancing pain that once was, is dull. Dr. Karev knows that is a fucking bad sign. Alex toils in oblivion). Cynical Meredith, who would find some way for this to be her fault; Alex really hopes his ghost stays around to watch that.

Alex knows he's fucked.

And when he hears the front door open, and then close, he tries to scream. All that comes out is a pitiful croak. He tries over, and over again, begging someone to just end the pain. He wonders if their bladders are all empty, if they stopped on their way home, if they didn't order the second drink, so they wouldn't have to use the restroom. He begs for the girls to have to fix their hair, to want to 

brush their teeth. And as the last fucking moments of consciousness leave him, he really wishes that someone with a gentle heart and soothing words will call his mom.


End file.
